


Circadian Rhythm

by orphan_account



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Episode: s07e08 Hearts Still Beating, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jesus aims to help Daryl sleep after his arrival to Hilltop, but ends up needing some rest for himself the most.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cougarlips](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cougarlips/gifts).



> written for thatsmygvn on tumblr/cougarlips here on ao3. the prompt was "rhythm," originally from an ask meme, and i stretched it out to "circadian rhythm." it's only half-cheating. 
> 
> good luck on your finals kaci!

It was common knowledge that Jesus did not sleep. The insomnia that had plagued him since childhood only intensified after the apocalypse. He could stay alert for days with minimal rest, until finally crashing once his body simply demanded him to.

Daryl didn’t sleep during his first two nights at Hilltop, either. Jesus couldn’t blame him; whenever he closed his eyes he saw only the pummeled gore of the Savior Daryl had unleashed his furious pain onto. He hadn’t slept since before the Saviors’ symbolic attack on Hilltop, which felt like weeks or months ago. But Daryl witnessed more than Jesus ever had—or perhaps ever would, as Maggie and Sasha’s brief descriptions of their group’s past implied. Jesus suspected Daryl would develop sleeping problems as well. At least he was in good company.

Maggie slept in his bed every night, whilst Enid and Sasha laid on the floor. Theoretically, Jesus was supposed to sleep in Barrington House. Instead he paced the grounds of Hilltop, lending a hand to anyone in need of a quick repair or conversation. These people depended on him, and he could trick his body into wakefulness—and his mind into closeness—with servitude.

The sky darkened to purple after all the discussion, tearful reunions, and physical checkups of the day were finished. Jesus returned to the medical trailer to check on Daryl late in the night, but found his bed empty.

Carson looked at Jesus pointedly. “I came back and he was gone. The fresh air will do him good,” he said. The doctor had a way of seeing into people’s inner motives. “He wouldn’t go too far.”

Jesus nodded and left. He didn’t think Daryl would find refuge inside after spending so much time locked within four walls, so he checked several crevices and hidden spots across Hilltop until tentatively approaching Glenn and Abraham’s graves markers.

Daryl sat between the two mounds of dirt with his head down, hands splayed flat on the ground. Jesus’s shirt snagged over his broad shoulders.

Jesus sat beside him wordlessly. Daryl didn’t lift his head or otherwise acknowledge his presence. They remained quiet for many long moments.

“What do you want?” Daryl eventually asked.

“I couldn’t find you,” Jesus said.

“Here I am.”

“I see that.”

Daryl looked up, his freshly washed hair curling around his slate-blue eyes unlike the matted tangles Jesus originally saw at the Sanctuary.

“What do you want?” he asked again.

“You should sleep. It’s late.”

Daryl scoffed.

“Have you slept at all lately?”

“They played a song over and over. It’s still stuck in my head.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need sympathy.”

“I know.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes, then glanced away. “I wouldn’t be able, even if I wanted to.”

“What you did to that Savior,” Jesus mentioned. Daryl flinched. “You’re all...pent up.”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Do you want to leave?”

Daryl blinked. “What?”

“I’ll take you over the wall.” Jesus gestured vaguely to the direction of the guard post.

“Why not open the gate?”

“It’s too loud. I’d rather Gregory not know.”

With a final look at the graves, Daryl rose and dusted off his hands. “Okay.”

They walked silently. Jesus signaled down the resident on duty, Eduardo.

“Heading out again?” Eduardo asked Jesus. His inquisitive glance toward Daryl was hidden by his ever-present hood.

“Yeah,” Jesus said. “Don’t wait up.”

Eduardo waved him on. “Be careful.”

Jesus lead Daryl up the steps, then pointed to a rusted car sitting on the other side of the wall once they reached the top of the outpost. “I usually just drop down on top of that.”

Daryl looked down at Eduardo, who was waiting casually beneath them. “These people always listen to you?”

“Some. Eduardo is a good person. There’s another man named Kal. Do you want me to go first?” Jesus asked.

Daryl turned back. “Sure.”

Jesus hiked a leg over the top of the wall, then the other, and lowered himself over the car. He landed smoothly, boots creaking the dented roof, and looked up at Daryl. “Easy-peasy.”

Daryl effortlessly repeated the move and dropped into the tall grass with Jesus. Eduardo saluted them from above, and they walked into the trees.

“Here.” Jesus handed Daryl a sheathed knife.

Daryl clipped it onto his belt. “How much are you always packing?”

Jesus stowed his hands his trench coat’s pockets and smirked. “The essentials.”

“Huh.”

Daryl walked ahead. Jesus noticed his posture already relaxing in the thickening wilderness. Treetops blotted the starry sky, leaving eerie patches of moonlight. Daryl passed through them light-footed, subtly illuminated, and Jesus suddenly thought the lack of his winged vest irrevocably wrong.

“What do you do when you’re out here?” Daryl asked, wrenching Jesus from his thoughts.

He caught up to Daryl’s pace. “Nothing, really. It’s nice though. Taking time for myself.”

“Looks like you deserve it,” Daryl said.

Jesus was blindsided by the surprise comment. “Thank you.”

“I’m serious.” Daryl jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “This place wouldn’t run without you. And I’ve only been here for a day.”

“I never stay too long,” Jesus said. “I guess I just try to help the best I can when I’m here.”

Daryl paused for a considerable length of time. “We had a place a long time ago. Back in Georgia. A prison.” He shook his head. “We thought we could hold out there forever. It felt like we could.”

“You don’t have to talk about what happened,” Jesus said.

Daryl stopped. Jesus stood beside him.

“What if I do?” Daryl asked.

“Then I’m here to listen.”

Daryl continued onward without speaking, until they stopped to sit in a clearing.

He retold the story of Woodbury, the Governor, and his brother sitting across from Jesus, elbows resting on his folded legs as he stared at the ground. Jesus listened intently without comment, soaking up the moment of trust as much as he could. He didn’t know what spurred Daryl’s admission; maybe tiredness and pain, mixed together.

Daryl looked up when he finished, visibly worn.

“Thank you,” Jesus said again.

“For what?”

“Telling me all of that.”

Daryl eyed him. “Yeah.”

Jesus yawned, and his spine arched with the motion. “Shit,” he said.

“Tired?” Daryl asked.

“I don’t know.” Jesus rubbed his eyes.

“We should head back. Been out here for awhile.”

“Don’t you want to stay out?”

“Nah. Don’t want Gregory grounding us.” Daryl stood and offered his hand. “I’m good.”

Jesus took pulled himself up. “Alright.”

As they trekked back to Hilltop the sky began to lighten. Once they heaved themselves back over the wall a select few residents were awakening. Sasha stepped out of Jesus’s trailer as the two men neared, and lifted a brow.

“Morning, boys,” she greeted.

“Hey.” Jesus blew past her, dying to take her place on the floor.

“He’s tired,” Daryl clarified before following inside and shutting the door.

Maggie and Enid remained asleep, unbothered. Jesus face planted onto Sasha’s pallet of blankets.

“Your coat?” Daryl prompted.

“Forget it,” Jesus said.

Daryl pulled up a chair from the table.

Jesus cracked open an eye. “You’re staying?”

“Might as well.” He reached for the stack of books balanced against the wall.

“You need to sleep,” Jesus said.

Daryl licked his fingers to flip open a novel. “Looks like you need it more.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Shut the hell up, Paul,” Daryl softly ordered.

Jesus complied and soon drifted to a heavy sleep. Daryl watched him from the table, unable to read more than four pages of the book without glancing up.

Unbeknownst to either of the men, Enid and Maggie shared a secret smile.


End file.
